About neutrality of academics…
“When it mattered, who sided with justice and who sided with power? What makes moments such as this one so dangerous, so clarifying, is that one way or another, everyone is forced to answer.” Omar El Akkad, One Day, Everyone Will Always Have Been Against this
If you are an academic, a public voice, or a social scientist, your words carry weight. And with that weight comes responsibility. You hold influence, especially in disciplines that quietly shape some of the deepest normative questions: what is “optimal,” what is “just,” what is “welfare.” Our collective voice helps guide how society defines what is good, fair, and desirable. The choice of whether and when to use our words, whether in academic or public discourse, is never neutral. Even introducing silence has consequences; choosing when to speak carries responsibility. Often reminded of this paper when people invoke the belief that academics are neutral or unbiased: Jelveh et al (2024), Political Language in Economics.
We have a responsibility today, if only in the name of our academic independence, to call attention (with honesty and clarity) to the human-made violations unfolding in Gaza and across Palestine: a campaign that threatens the very survival of a people, their land, and their memory.
What makes this moment so distinctive is not only its scale and brutality and the grotesque display of its degrading methods employed, indeed through methods that cause humiliation, starvation, and the destruction of a people’s way of life whose very existence, and their memory of past suffering, appears to be an obstacle to prevailing narratives.
What makes it so distinctive is that it has always been (and continues to be) completely avoidable yet entirely televised.
Whatever one personally calls it, the scale and intent of the violence are grave enough that the International Association of Genocide Scholars has resolved to classify it as genocide. The UN Commission of Inquiry, UN rapporteurs and historians across borders have done the same; the International Court of Justice has indicated provisional measures in the case concerning the Application of the Convention on the Prevention and Punishment of the Crime of Genocide. And the victims have been trying to tell the world for years while their voices have been muffled by our chosen and comfortable collective silence.
Naming this is not hatred. It arises from a commitment to humanity, dignity, and the principles of inquiry we are meant to uphold. Our responsibility as scholars and educators is to pursue truth, to uphold human dignity, and to use our knowledge in the service of society. This is not about individuals or institutions, but a call to our disciplines to live up to the responsibilities we claim, and to use responsibly the freedom of expression that our institutions and constitutions protect for some of us.
As communities teaching or studying the social sciences (including fields such as development and effective altruism, genuinely or not professing explicit moral commitments) we bear a responsibility. This moment invites us to reflect on whether we are living up to those commitments, and whether our work, inquiry, and public discourse align with truth and integrity, or with the convenience of silence in the face of power. One way or another, everyone in these fields is forced to answer.
Yet, in a way, we have already answered, through our collective silence. Whatever the reasons may be (respect, fear, friendship, funding, or career concerns) the gap between our stated principles and our response to this moment has been striking to most, alienating to many. To remain silent while speaking out elsewhere challenges the coherence of our intellectual commitments. As Edward Said warned, one of the intellectual’s deepest failures is to accommodate power by selectively moralizing: speaking loudly where it is safe, while remaining quiet where it matters most. In fields such as development, built on ideals of altruism, and political economy, built on ideals of justice, that tension is especially visible, and especially difficult to sustain with integrity.
This collective choice for silence is increasingly on display; the tide is turning, and the space for avoidance is shrinking. One day soon, everyone will always have been against this. In time, history will view this moment with clarity, and our responses (whether through action or silence) will be rightly remembered as part of that record.
I hope that our new generation can do better than this: to speak where others in the past and in the present remained silent, and to live up to the principles we claim. For many younger scholars and students, this moment has produced something close to moral injury: a rupture of trust in the very institutions, mentors, and intellectual traditions they believed were committed to justice, truth, and human dignity.
If we want to do better, we must repair that trust: not by demanding uniformity of opinion, but by demonstrating that our disciplines have the integrity and courage to speak when it matters. Have the courage to acknowledge this man-made catastrophe that touches on the core of our disciplines and their stated missions, and act with integrity, not only through topics that earn social approval. Speak openly, normalize honest dialogue, and channel conviction into thoughtful, strategic, and constructive action. Let us resist the temptation to retreat into safer conversations under the guise that it’s too complicated, or to substitute genuine engagement with performative gestures.
UNESCO Recommendation concerning the Status of Higher-Education Teaching Personnel (1997):
“Higher-education teaching personnel should recognize that the exercise of academic freedom carries with it special duties, including the duty to seek and state the truth as they see it and to devote their professional life to the search for truth.”
Raúl SÁNCHEZ DE LA SIERRA 